Photographs
by Turn Back Now
Summary: Sometimes the only thing you need to go to sleep at night as to cry a bit. Slightly sad Deidara-centric oneshot.


**Hey! This is Amethystte and I know it's probably too early to be writing a quick Deidara Angst ficlet and posting it, but I needed to. I randomly got inspired… This also took me EXACTLY AN HOUR to write. :)**

**This story is based off a true story, in fact, it's exactly what happened to me about an hour and a half ago, but I decided to turn my experience into Deidara's and put it on fanfiction to see what people thought about it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Too tired to put something clever or funny here, so I just don't own Naruto and let's leave it at that.**

* * *

Deidara sighed, sprawled out on his bed and staring absently at the ceiling. He turned his head . The alarm clock on the desk beside his bed read 1:58 AM. The blond groaned. He'd been lying there for hours, unable to sleep, thoughts clouding his head. The thoughts were simple, pointless ones, such as what his next mission might be, what would he do tomorrow, and what Sasori might be thinking about at that moment, but they kept him up.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and sat up, rubbing the sides of his head. Might as well find something productive to do. He sighed again and stood, going over to flick the light switch on. He looked around his messy room and growled. Deciding to save himself the trouble of having Sasori making him clean it up later, he bent down and picked up some of the clothes lying on the floor.

Ten minutes later, he was still stuffing random articles of clothing into drawers and hampers. He was about to shove a couple fishnet shirts into one of the empty drawers in a mahogany dresser, but something stopped him. Two photo albums stared back at him. He dropped the shirts and took them out, sitting on his bed.

One of them, in earthy colors with his name on it, was completely empty, save a single picture of himself on the cover. He blinked, wondering where he had gotten it. Then he remembered that Konan had given it to him for his birthday about two years back. He had just stuffed it in a drawer, forgetting about it completely.

The second one was blue with four simple drawings on it. He chuckled to himself. The one on the far left was a girl who had wavy red hair, the one on her right was a blond with straight hair. Around their shoulder was the arm of someone with short black hair and sunglasses, and his other arm was around another blond with curly hair.

He opened the album, and smiled warmly at the sight of his six year old self standing there in one of the pictures, grinning widely up at the camera. His hair only went down to his shoulders back then, but his bangs were still long and swept to the left. He wondered if the child version of himself ever thought that he'd become an S ranked criminal, killing people for a living. It was a sad thought. "Poor kid. He'd never have wanted this…" He whispered, stroking the plastic covering over the photograph. Deidara would've given anything if it meant going back and making better decisions.

He turned the page, smiling at the innocent little blond in all of the pictures. He almost wanted to cry when he saw himself there holding hands with a tall woman with long blond hair and crystal blue eyes who was smiling contentedly at the camera. His grandmother. She had a natural air of youth and playfulness around her, and despite her age, her face looked about ten years younger than she actually was. They'd been so close, her and Deidara. She was the only one that understood him. But regardless of everything she'd done to keep healthy in her life, like basically never drinking, never smoking, exercising almost daily, eating healthy—she still disappeared from his life when he was thirteen. She'd gotten cancer in June and died in September. Deidara felt a tear spill out, but quickly wiped it away. He didn't want to cry, but yet, he felt the tears streaming down his face anyway. He didn't mind it much. There wasn't anyone around and he had a good reason.

"Damn…" He muttered, then laughed bitterly. "I wonder if you knew, baa-chan… that you'd be gone hardly seven years from then…" The tears kept running down, and his voice was shaky, but he continued talking to himself. "Why'd you have to leave? You were too young to go… I'd do anything in the world to go back in time to stop it…" He choked back a sob, sniffed, and turned the page.

Fifteen minutes later, there were dried tear stains on his cheeks, and a smile laying at his lips. He 'Awww'ed at six year old Deidara sitting adorably on a stone ledge somewhere in America, with Crater Lake in the background, the island in the center looking peaceful, as if it had been sitting there, untouched, for centuries.

He turned the page again, but found blank blue paper with plastic coverings. He looked back at the earthy colored photo album at his side, and back at the one in his lap. Going back to the beginning, he began taking out some of his favorite pictures, like the one where he was wearing a red T-shirt and shorts and pointing at an elephant at the zoo, and the one of him in a forest, leaning against a tree that had split a few inches above the base of the trunk and grown into two parts.

Another fifteen minutes later, the album was half filled up and he had almost run out of pictures. He picked up the next photo carefully, trying not to poke himself in the palm with the edges like some of the other ones. He noticed that the last four were all pictures of his grandmother. He smiled and fought back the moisture beginning to form in his eyes again. He slipped them under the clear coverings and stared at them for a moment, feeling as though something were missing.

Oh yeah, her. He let a single tear leak out but that was it.

Picking up a silver sharpie from his desk, he uncapped it and wrote on the layer of plastic over the picture of him and his grandmother standing at the entrance sign of a museum in Suna.

As girly as it seemed, the four words he wrote, which were split into three lines, each had a small heart next to each line. It read, "I miss you Baa-chan." It took all of his strength not to burst into tears.

He ran his fingers over the words, making sure they were dry, and then shut the album, sitting it on top of the blue one. He smiled and stood up, setting the photo albums on the ground and walking across the room to turn the lights off. He remembered his original intention of cleaning the still somewhat messy room but was now too tired to bother with it.

He laid down on his bed again, pulling the covers over his shoulders and shutting his eyes. Maybe all he needed to fall asleep was to cry a little.

* * *

**For anyone who's curious, Deidara's grandmother was actually based off of mine. She did really have blond hair and blue eyes, and she did get cancer last June and three months later. I'm thirteen too, so yeah. Based that off of it…**

**And no, I didn't mean to make Deidara sound girly or anything at all by making him cry. His grandma was **_**very**_** close to him, and anyone would cry if they were remembering someone they loved a lot who died. Kami knows I cried like hell while I was switching those photos from album to album, and I also cried like hell while I was writing this. So DeiDei-bashers, screw off.**

**Review please! :D**


End file.
